


Last Chance

by kittynightterrors



Series: Golden City [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake Teeth, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Pre-Fake AH Crew, Suicidal Thoughts, idk the RT "fake" name
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 13:19:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15535122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittynightterrors/pseuds/kittynightterrors
Summary: Joel didn't believe in second chances, but a judge decided that he had one last chance to recover. Can he over come his addiction? Or will Los Santos drag him back in?





	Last Chance

Joel didn’t believe in second chances, he never had. Not in Stocks, not in love, not in friendship. It was a foolish fantasy that foolish idiots believed in. He had gone from prison to rehab to the streets, and he knew that no one would give him a chance. His rap sheet was a mile long and no one hired a snitch. Especially out in San Andreas. The whole fuckin’ state was built on lies, so no one would even give him a glance. To get a place to live Joel did things that he should be ashamed of, but shame was something he hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t a nice place, but it was a roof over his head.

He found himself selling drugs, which in all fairness was decent money if you knew who wanted what and how to cut it. Profits were great, and Joel was getting greedy with the product. A bump here and there turned to a gram off the top turned to a fuckin’ ounce off a key. Greed only gets you so far in the world of drugs before someone beats you half to death or shoots you. Unfortunately for Joel, the people who decided to fuck him, got the DEA to do their dirty work. Even though he didn’t’ put up a fight, he still left his house zip tied and busted up.

He waited for his trial, on edge from withdrawals and knowing that he was done for. This was his last strike and he was just waiting to hear how long he would be rotting in a concrete box. If he was honest, he was just going to off himself after he got sentenced. The book was going to be thrown at him, and he would never see daylight again. Better to have a snapped neck than be a prison bitch for the rest of his life. His suicidal thoughts consumed him, and he was only brought back to reality when the guard told him it was time to meet the judge. Goodbye fucked up life.

He was walked into the court room and was floor when he saw a female judge; they were usually more lenient and that meant all his plans to off himself were fucked. He stood behind the stand and chewed on his lip until he tasted blood only letting it go when he could feel the “mom” look she was giving him.

“Mr. Heyman do you like animals?”

Joel’s head cocked to the side at the question before he nodded like an idiot. Who didn’t fuckin’ like animals? And what kind of a question was that to ask?

“Would you ever hurt an animal?”

“People who hurt animals should get shot,” he said bluntly, earning a surprising smile from the judge.

“Then you, Mr. Heyman, are going to be part of a new program. Because, I do not see you as a criminal. Not fully. From reading your record: you’re an addict, and addiction does _not_ get fixed behind cell doors. In fact, it often gets worse. Do you know what fixes an addict?”

Joel shook his head and started to worry his lip again. Why couldn’t the woman just sentence him to life? Maybe if he ran at her, faked like he would hurt her this would go the other way…

“Animals do, Mr. Heyman. Animals and accountability.” 

Joel’s eyes widened at her words, his teeth tearing at the tender flesh of his lip as the gravity of her words hit him.

“Welcome to the world of house arrest. You _will_ be drug tested. You _will_ report to your parole officer. And you _will_ serve a thousand hours of community service at an animal shelter. If you do this correctly, Mr. Heyman, you will break your addiction. This is not a second chance, Mr. Heyman. This is your _last_ chance.”

The woman slammed the gavel down on the bench and Joel was lead out of the court room. He was processed and given an ankle monitor. His parole officer was just as uncomfortably nice as the judge and soon Joel was back home. Everything was still torn up from the raid and the only thing he could do was clean up since he was going to be inspected almost weekly. He felt like a damn child, but maybe the judge was right. Maybe he could be fixed?

The next morning Joel got up and grabbed himself a protein bar as he made himself a lunch sack of cup noodles and soda. He got dressed and called a taxi for himself, still on the fence on how to feel about going to an animal shelter instead of prison. He didn’t’ see this as a second chance, he knew some how he would fuck it up so why cling to hope. When he arrived at the animal shelter he was surprised that it was all pit bulls and one big ass mother fucker. Joel was tall, but this guy who looked half his age was taller and bulker. The man had this intense facial hair and he looked like someone you wouldn’t fuck with. Yet here he was, holding a big ass pit and giving the dog little kisses all over her snout.

“You must be Joel,” the man said as he put the pit down, who was squirming and whining when her paws touched the ground. Tall Guy just patted her on the head before he held a hand out to Joel.

“Yeah, and there’s a shit ton of pits here,” Joel said uneasily as he took the large hand and shook it. Of course, the only dog he was actually uncomfortable around was the only breed at this shelter. He crossed his arms over his chest before he stumbled back when a heavy weight smacked into his shins. He looked down and saw that a big boy had decided that his feet were the best seta around.

“Uh…do I have paper work or anything I need to fill out?”

“Not right now. I’m Adam, by the way,” the big guy said. Joel gave a small nod and kept his arms close to his body. He didn’t’ want the guy’s name, the less he could be attached the better. Suddenly there was a pit’s face in his own and he jumped back, rubbing the slobber off his cheeks and staring at the guy with the beard.

“I don’t like pits,” he said bluntly.

“Do you like jail?”

Joel made a face and rolled his eyes as he shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket. Of course, that was going to be held over his head. He kicked at the dirt on the ground before he looked to the dogs and the twenty-something in charge of his life.

“Where do I start?”

Adam grinned and lead him deeper into the shelter, stopping every time they passed by another dog to introduce him. So far there was Peach (red like a peach), Caboose (the big idiot), Dolly (missing an eye), Chicken (smallest), Buck (stubby tail), Tiny (the scariest and most muscular of the dogs), Mr. Jowls (nothing but drool), and Debbie (a male). Each had their own personality, and the big guy seemed to care about each dog. He knew all their needs and their stories, and each dog loved him. Tiny wanted to be Joel’s friend, but Joel was not there for friendship. Just had to get his insanely large number of hours whittled down one day at a time.

In the back of the shelter were the dogs that needed to be rehabilitated, the ones that came from dog fighting or trap houses. Joel stayed right at the gate and never ventured toward that dogs that were all teeth and aggression. He’d rather have Tiny around him than the ones in the back.

“Ya know, they’re the reason the judge placed you here,” Adam said offhandedly during their lunch break. “I’ve taken to helping all of these dogs, and she thinks I can help you too.”

In response Joel slurped his noodles loudly and stared down at whatever magazine was on the table.

“You don’t have to like it, but you don’t have to be rude, ya know. I don’t think any less of you just because of what you’ve done.”

Joel scoffed and set his cup of noodles down, point at Adam with his plastic fork.

“You don’t know what I’ve done, and I don’t want your fuckin’ pity, kid. If that judge hadn’t been so nice I wouldn’t be on this god forsaken earth anymore. Now I have to do something with this stupid shit she gave me. I was ready to end it, now I’m around stupid ass dogs and a big idiot that cares for ‘em. So spare me the bullshit, ‘kay?”

Adam sucked his teeth and moved the fork out of his face, staring back at Joel.

“Oh boo fuckin’ hoo. The coke head can’t handle people being nice to him. Get over yourself. I’ve read about you and the dude you fucked over. You had an itch you couldn’t scratch so you cheated. You played the market, you sold out your friend, then you started doing drugs. How fuckin’ sad for you. You white collar fucks fall so hard, but never actually had to struggle. So, don’t lecture me ‘cause you ruined your own life.”

Sitting back, stunned, Joel just stared at the younger man for a minute before he stared down into his cup. It was all true, he had come from money, made a name for himself, then fucked it all. He sent his best friend to prison and got off for being a rat. It haunted him daily, knowing that he had gotten away with so much. But here he was, ruining the one chance he could have at redemption. Fingers snapped in his face and he looked up to see Adam with this stupid, sweet smile on his face.

“You aren’t the only fuck up around here, but I’m not here to pity you. I’m here for these dogs, and so should you. So, finish your food. Then you get to bathe them.” Adam put a large hand on Joel’s head, gave him a pat and walked away. Joel didn’t know what to do he was torn between fighting this kid tooth and nail over everything and just doing what he was told. He didn’t’ have to contemplate long as the clacking of long nails on tile filled the room. Tiny looked at him, tail wagging before he let out a loud bark. Joel flinched at the sound, but the dog just sat down, his tail still wagging as he looked to the man.

“Do…do you want a bath?” The dog barked again and jumped up excitedly, spinning around in a circle. Joel laughed as the dog kept spinning before he got up from the table to throw away his cup of cold broth. He walked out the door and heard the dog follow behind him as he went to the bathing station. Peach and Caboose were already there, playing with each other as they waited to get washed. It was just under half the dogs he had to get bathed, and Joel decided he would track down the others later. He pulled off his hoodie and set it on the counter next to the bath.

“Come on, Tiny, in ya go,” he grumbled as he picked the large dog up. He could swear that the dog decided to be dead weight the moment he was in Joel’s arms, but he managed to get the pit in the bath. He started the water and grabbed the soap, pouring the oatmeal scented liquid on the dog before he started to massage his skin gently. This earned him a very slobbery kiss that he wasn’t sure if he cared for, but he had to keep washing Tiny. Apparently, the dog liked being covered in soap because the moment water was on him to rinse his fur, Tiny wanted to shake it all off. He would not sit still, and Joel was starting to get very frustrated at the animal.

“You didn’t give him his toy,” came Adam’s voice from behind him. Joel turned his head around and gave him a quizzical look when he saw a rubber ducky in the man’s hand.

“Seriously? He has bath toys?”

Adam laughed as he moved next to Joel, handing Tiny the toy which caused him to immediately settle down. The older man looked between the dog and Adam, shaking his head before he finished rinsing off the dog. He cut the water off and grabbed a towel, wrapping the dog in the soft fabric as he picked him up and put him on the ground. Adam gave Joel a little wink as he started to dry the dog off. Peach bumped her head against Joel’s leg, wanting to be bathed next.

Seven clean dogs later and Joel was fucking exhausted. The pits weren’t the worst things in the world, but he still didn’t care to be around them. Though Tiny decided that Joel was now his person, which was just something else. Joel and Adam were in the office, putting in time on the various sheets that needed to be signed, initialed, and dated. All the fun stuff that came with pissing off the government.

“Do you need a ride home?” Adam asked as they walked to put the dogs up in their kennels. Joel shrugged as he put Debbie in his kennel.

“I was gonna call a cab, why? Wanna take me home?” He wasn’t expecting the younger man to actually say yes, and he certainly was not expecting the night to go the way it did. Actual genuine laughter, kissing, more. Joel half hated himself for letting this kid into his life so quickly, but he also felt like he needed it. He felt so alone after what happened with Burnie, and while it was completely his fault, there was only so much loneliness a person could take.

The next morning, Joel woke up achy and wrapped up in big arms. It was panic-inducing and nice all at once. He managed to worm himself out from the younger man’s grasp before he took a shower. His frustrations were taken out on his lip and released down the drain before he let himself prune under the hot water. Adam wasn’t even old enough to drink, yet here they were tangled up in something way messier than the kid could understand. Addiction wasn’t something that just affected the addict, and Joel wanted to just kick Adam out. It would be easier to break shit off now. If he went to the judge, he could ask to work at some other shelter. Something. ‘Cause whatever this was with Adam was only going to get messier.

Sufficiently pruned and out of hot water, Joel stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He was going to kick the kid out. 100%, that was his plan, and then he saw Adam sleeping and every bit of confidence he had fell away as the big idiot took up the whole bed and snored. Joel didn’t like people, actually he hated them, yet here he was with someone in his bed that he didn’t want to kick out. Yeah, this whole thing was really messy.

This routine of dog care followed by Joel care wasn’t supposed to last. It was supposed to be one and done, but before he knew it Adam was leaving clothes in his apartment and cooking for him; actually making him eat something other than ramen noodles. As Adam shoved his way into Joel’s life, the older man felt different, better but different. There were bad days, days he wanted to drop everything to get a bump, days he wanted to beat Adam’s face in for talking, but there were suddenly more good days. Joel had never gone through withdrawals with someone with him and having someone hold him while he shook and threw up everything was nice. It was comforting. It was dangerous.

No matter how good everything was right now, Joel knew Adam would get tired of his shit. The constant mood swings were going to get old quick. The vomiting, the sweating, the screaming. No one, especially someone Adam’s age, would want to stick around for that. Yet day in and day out Adam was by Joel’s side. He would take him to his PO, to every drug test, to and from work. The kid was starting to be more boyfriend than anything, and that made Joel so uncomfortable. His PO said the discomfort was from the withdrawals, that paranoia was part of it, but Joel wanted him to shut the fuck up. He was so fucking tired of hearing about the logistics of withdrawals. What did they know? He was the one suffering. Not the PO. Not Adam. 

One minute he wanted sleep the next he wanted to shoot himself then he was angry before tired again. Everything sucked, and he wished he had pissed off that judge, so he wouldn’t have to deal with this shit. The exhaustion was starting to get bad enough, especially coupled with his new-found insomnia, that he couldn’t go to the shelter to get his hours in. His PO came to check on him, let him off the hook for work, so long as he stayed in the house. Cool, where was his tired ass going to go? 

Adam tried to kiss him good bye for the day and the older man pulled the covers over his face, rolling away from the man with a nice ‘fuck off’ to solidify his want to be alone. Being exhausted only lasted so long before Joel couldn’t be under the covers anymore. He threw them off then pulled them back on. One leg out. Then all his limbs were free from the blanket. Nothing felt right, and the agitation was driving him up a wall. He was out of bed in a huff and started pacing around the bedroom, in this limbo of too hot too cold. His fist met the wall over and over, blood starting to mark up the dry wall, but it was the only thing that made him not feel like he was going completely insane.

When his fist began to tingle he slid down the wall and started to cry. It would all stop if he could just get a bump. No one would know, and he wouldn’t feel like he was losing his mind. That required getting up though and the exhaustion was strong enough he thought he might die. It wouldn’t last long though, not if his earlier restlessness was anything to go off of. As he laid on the floor he thought of places he was pretty sure he had stashed away. Adam had already gotten rid of his Goody’s; just because the big idiot thought the look of powder would have Joel off on a bender. There was nothing left in the pantry and Joel was pretty sure the DEA took his lock box. He had nothing, and he started to pull at his hair, tearing out some strands in hopes that hurting himself would stop the cravings. His fist had served as a temporary distraction, but it was hard for him to move away from scalp pain.

Unfortunately, agitation settled in again, causing the desperate man to stand up wobbly and pull on his clothes and hair. Everything felt suffocating, too big and too tight all at once, but he didn’t want to be naked. Naked was just being exposed and now was not the time for that. He started to pace the house again before he stopped to stare at a mirror in the living room. The thing staring back at him looked similar and unrecognizable. There was a bit of fat that had settled on his face now that he suddenly wanted to eat everything in the house. His eyes were sunken in and he looked tired. He charged at the mirror and yanked it off the wall, letting it shatter all over the floor in hopes of destroying the thing in the mirror. The bit of destruction felt good, really good, and suddenly Joel was taking his aggression out on everything in the room. Bookshelves were toppled, knick knacks broken, holes punched, closet torn apart. Anything that he could get his hands on was ruined, but that was thing only thing stopping himself from picking up and playing with the glass that littered the floor.

In his need for chaos Joel found a box tucked away in the closet; it was plain and unassuming, which meant the opposite for its contents. Lifting the lid showed off all the things that he was not supposed to have anymore: a burner, cash, coke, and a gun. It was his “rainy day” box, his “fuck Los Santos” box, his “he needed a new life” box. There was a few grand in bills and a few more grand in product. He could sell again, could skip town if he needed. Everything he needed was in his fucking lap. He could just take a bump. It was all right there, staring at him. Calling for him! Or he could end it all. That would be easier, messier but easier. Much easier. Grabbing the burner, Joel quickly kicked the cursed box away from him, scooting himself away from it until his back was firmly pressed against a wall. A frustrated scream came from the man as he yanked on his hair again, phone still firmly pressed in his hand. There was so much he could do with that fucking box and it was tearing him apart. Slamming his head against the wall, Joel flipped open the phone and texted the only number that was saved: Help.

The world slowly came to when he felt a pressure against his side and a not so gentle jostling. He blinked rapidly and looked to the owner of the foot to see an old friend standing over him. The man’s beard had grown in patchy and he looked just as tired as Joel felt, but it was so nice to see him again. Joel was quick to try and scramble up onto his feet, dusting himself off to try to be presentable.

“It’s been awhile, Joel.”

“Not long enough.”

The man gave a small nod as Joel started to fidget with his hair again, exhausted and embarrassed that his life had come to this. Geoff was an old friend from back in Liberty City, he was probably the only person who knew him before the shit hit the fan with Burnie. It had been a miracle that he had found him went he ran off to LS. Collecting himself, Joel picked up the box from the ground, holding it out to the younger man. As the box was pulled away from him, he let his fingers dance across the brick of coke. It was strange to have to be this low, to beg his friends to take his fucking drugs away. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Geoff. I’m so fuckin’… I’m so… I’m trying! I am! It’s just so hard! But this is the last time! I swear!” The man groveled as he fell to his knees in front of his friend, hugging onto him like he was the answer to all his prayers. He felt a hand on his hand and was unsure if it was supportive or the wrong king of inviting; though at this point Joel would take _that_ if it meant the feelings would stop. The hand stayed for a moment before he felt the tattooed fingers curl in his hair and yank his head back, forcing him to look at Geoff. He really looked and saw that the warmth and friendliness that he remembered had completely disappeared from the man’s face. He looked like he had not been happy in some time.

“It won’t be,” Geoff said harshly, letting go of Joel’s hair as he poked around in the box to see what was left. He picked up the cash, thumbing through it before he put it away to weigh the brick by hand. Making a satisfied grunt, he put in back in the box and looked down at Joel. “We always have this song and dance, Joel, but _I_ can’t do this anymore. You’re bad for business.”

“Business?”

How long had it been since he had seen Geoff? The man had never wanted to be I this life, just had a taste for powder every now and then. What had he missed? Before he could question the man, he saw him pick the burner up off the floor, tossing it in the box.

“No more chances, Joel. Contact me again and I won’t be so kind.”

Joel said nothing as the man walked out the front door, taking the box that could have changed his life with him. He should have taken the money and ran. Now all he had was chaos and a reminder of how fucked he was. Would Adam really be able to handle him ‘beating’ this addiction? Could he actually be drug free? Or was this just a ~~second, third, fourth,~~ _last_ chance at being a junkie? 

**Author's Note:**

> Holy god I struggled with [this](http://kittynightterrors.tumblr.com/post/176547610906/last-chance), but welcome to my first Fake fic? It’s all based off an RP with my partner so it takes a hard left from most Fake stuff I’ve seen.


End file.
